The Only Answer That Matters
by Ciara2531
Summary: "They all had something to gain from this but not you. You had nothing to gain and everything to lose."


**A/N - I only started watching the show last week (I know, I know, how late am I to this party?) but I'm all caught up now. It's been ages since I've felt the least bit inspired to write any type of fic but Olivia and Fitz have really gotten under my skin. I am completely in love with the two of them. I'm sure things won't be wrapped up nearly this neatly on the show but then, where would the fun be if it was? I may have taken some liberties with the American system of government, forgive me! Also, I don't own em and comments are always welcome. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was late, the middle of the night in fact. There was no emergency, no incoming client, no reason for Olivia to be walking into her office at 2:45 in the morning. Her heels clicked on the floor, obnoxiously loud in the otherwise silent space and yet she knew.

She knew as she opened the door, that she wasn't alone. She knew exactly who was there and she knew exactly why. For a few seconds, she simply stared into the darkness. She'd be on the defensive soon enough; might as well let him make the first move.

She heard the soft snick when he flipped the switch of the lamp on her desk. She blinked as the pale yellow light spilled over his all too familiar features. He was sitting in her chair, leaning back. He'd looked relaxed if it wasn't for the death grip that his fingers now had on the armrests. He'd looked relaxed if not for the turmoil sweeping through those blue grey eyes. Eyes that were fixed on her, driving into her, looking for things she could only imagine.

"Why?" he rasped.

It was only one word but it carried more emotion than any word Olivia had ever heard before. It carried more questions than just the one, too. He wasn't here because they had rigged the election. He was here because the fact that _she_ had been involved in them rigging the election cast doubt on the one thing that he'd counted on to always get him through: her faith in him.

"Because you needed it," Olivia said.

She saw the flash of stark pain and deep outrage in his eyes and the disbelief that when he asked for an explanation, she would dare put it on him in any way. She knew it sounded like an empty claim, a hollow excuse and maybe it was. But it was also the truth and she suddenly felt desperate to make him understand, to make him see.

"If the outcome had been different," Olivia began thickly. "You…it would have broken you. Everything with your father and…_ who you are_ would have been lost and I wasn't willing to risk it, Fitz."

She shook her head.

"I wasn't," she repeated.

His gaze didn't waver. He barely even blinked.

"Why?" he asked again.

There was more anger thrumming in his voice this time, less despair.

"Because I knew that if we gave you the chance, you would be great," Olivia said.

"So you made a choice," Fitz said implacably.

"Yes," Olivia said, clenching her hands into fists so that they would stop shaking. She didn't want to be weak right now, standing in front of him, trying to own the single biggest decision she'd ever made, she didn't want to be weak.

"Would you take it back?" he wanted to know.

Olivia blinked and a gale of slightly hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat.

"I don't know," she said and it was as honest an answer as she was capable of. "What we did, what _I_ did. It goes against everything I thought I believed, everything I thought I knew about myself. And god knows, I've wondered how life might have turned out if I hadn't crossed that line."

She shook her head again.

"But you proved me right," she said. "You are a _great_ President so even though it has _cost_ me to carry the weight of this every single day and to deal with the fallout which goes beyond anything Mellie cared to tell you, I can't stand here and swear that I would take it back."

Olivia pressed her lips together and forced herself not to flinch when he pushed the chair back and got to his feet. He rounded the desk and for a few seconds, Olivia had no idea whether or not he was going to walk out the door and never come back.

Her whole body was stiff and she felt as thought the slightest movement might shatter her. The tension inside her coiled tighter with every step he took, so much so that it took her a minute to register that he wasn't walking out. He was walking towards her, invading her personal space until his forehead was inches from hers and his mouth hovered just over her lips.

"Tell me everything," he said.

"Fitz," Olivia breathed.

"Don't," he said, lifting a finger to her mouth to quiet her. "Hollis, Verna, Cyrus, Mellie. They had all something to gain from this but not you. You had nothing to gain and everything to lose."

"That doesn't make it right," Olivia said.

"No," Fitz agreed. "It doesn't. And yes, I would rather have won this presidency fair and square. And yes, I'm going to wonder if things would have been different for us two years ago if you'd made a different choice. But none of that can be changed. The only power we have right now is over what happens next."

"You don't have to be involved," Olivia told him. "This wasn't on you."

"We're in this together," Fitz reminded her. "At least, I want us to be. And however I got here, I _am_ the President of the United States so why don't you _tell me everything_ and for once, let _me_ fix _you."_

Olivia stared at him. She'd braced herself for his feeling hurt and betrayed and angry but she hadn't braced herself for this, for him wanting to stand by her, for his support.

"I wish I could," she finally said. "But…"

"No buts," Fitz said. "Just tell me and whatever it is, however bad it is, we'll find a way to make it right."

In that moment, Olivia believed him.

* * *

**12 MONTHS LATER**

"It's finally over," Fitz said.

"And we're still standing," Olivia said. "How did that happen?"

"I'm not completely sure," Fitz admitted.

Cyrus had taken things out of their hands before Fitz even had a chance to figure out how he was going to try and fix things. He'd arranged to have Hollis Doyle killed and he'd assumed that everything would end there. That Mellie and Verna and Olivia would let things lie because the biggest threat to them all was out of the way.

He'd assumed wrong.

Or rather, he hadn't counted on Fitz putting everything on the line. The President had gone public. He told the American public that questions were being asked about the legitimacy of his election and he'd invited Congress to launch a full-blown investigation into all of it.

Of course, he'd also made sure that Huck had access to every tool he could possibly need in order to make sure the trails pointed in certain ways as opposed to others. By the time Congress finished looking into everything, they'd decided against impeachment proceedings and determined that whatever rigging had taken place hadn't been enough to alter the outcome of the election.

Cyrus had resigned and avoided prison by pointing the finger at Hollis and Verna, who was too sick with cancer at that point to stand any kind of trial for whatever crimes she might have been involved in.

So it had been messy and it had been one hell of a scandal, even by Washington standards.

But they were still standing.

"What happens now?" Olivia asked.

Fitz grinned at her. "I need a new Chief of Staff," he teased.

"Funny," Olivia said, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down into his lap.

"I have to go to Berlin next week," Fitz said. "Talks about the Eurozone crisis. Come with me?"

"As what?" Olivia said. "Your Chief of Staff?"

Fitz shook his head and kissed her cheek. "As my best friend," he said.

He kissed her other cheek.

"As my lover," he continued.

He nibbled her bottom lip before pulling back to look at her.

"You're the most important person in my life," he said, repeating the same words he'd said to her the night of his inauguration when they'd christened his desk in the Oval. "I want you with me and I don't want to have to hide it."

"You think the country's ready for that, after everything that's happened?" Olivia asked.

"It's been nine months since the divorce," Fitz said. "And the country's dealt with worse this year."

"You've only just stabilized your approval ratings and…"

"Livvy," Fitz interrupted. "Stop acting like a press secretary and just be mine."

"Yours?" Olivia questioned.

"Mine," Fitz confirmed.

Olivia allowed a small but genuine smile to stretch across her face.

"Okay," she agreed.

She let herself melt a little more into his arms and their mouths melded together in one of the sweetest kisses they'd ever shared. Of course it didn't stay sweet for long and her dress was bunched around her hips and his shirt was half way unbuttoned before they came up for air.

"You know you're going to have to charm Angela," Olivia mumbled against his mouth as she reached for his belt. "If you want her to put pressure on Hollande about the French cutting their spending."

"And deprive myself of the pleasure of watching you rip him to shreds?" Fitz said, peeling her underwear down her legs. "I don't think so."

Olivia framed his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. "We're really doing this?" she asked.

Fitz's gaze softened. Olivia was one of the strongest women, no strongest _people _that he knew but when it came to them, he couldn't blame her for feeling a little uncertain. She knew he loved her, he didn't think that had ever really been in doubt. But she'd spent a long time believing that this day would never come and he couldn't expect words to banish in a few months, defenses that it had taken years to build.

"I love you," he said. " I am planning to spend the rest of my life with you. That means the last year of this term, on the campaign trail, four more years if the American people decide to give them to me, all by themselves this time."

Olivia bit her lip to stifle a smile.

"It means all the years after I leave the White House for the last time," Fitz said. "This is what I've wanted life to look like since the first time I laid eyes on you."

"Me too," Olivia said.

And she meant it. So when he did away with the rest of her clothes and stretched her out on his desk, when he found his way inside her and filled her up as if he'd been made for her and only her, she couldn't help feeling whole. Feeling as if this man, _her_ man, had managed to fix her after all.


End file.
